


i don't know anyone i am

by lonelyheartsclub_com



Category: Murder Most Unladylike Series - Robin Stevens
Genre: Angst, Grief/Mourning, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 03:28:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29200596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lonelyheartsclub_com/pseuds/lonelyheartsclub_com
Summary: harold notices that every single night bertie stumbles into their room in fallingford reeking of brandy. and for once in his life, he doesn't know what to do. his hands are tied.
Relationships: Alfred Cheng & Harold Mukherjee & Amanda Price & Henrietta Trilling & Bertie Wells, Harold Mukherjee/Bertie Wells
Kudos: 9





	i don't know anyone i am

**Author's Note:**

> tw // grief, death, drowning, suicide/suicidal thoughts, alcohol issues/addiction

Harold flicked through a copy of Great Expectations, starting to doze off, when the door slammed open after a harsh swear and a slur of words. _"Fuck's sake, why won' th' door open?"_

And then Bertie stood, leaning against the doorframe with tears in his eyes, a sob rising up in his throat. Harold frowned and put his book down, walking over to his lover and softly taking him in his arms.

"God, 'm sorry, Harold. I le' y' down." he sobs, and Harold can't help but feel a stab of sympathy. Harold shushes him softly, and he doesn't know what to say apart from whispers of former languages he doesn't speak much anymore.

Bertie was spiraling again. 

As in, he was stumbling into their room in the dead of night, and he'd slip into their bed, his skin cold to the touch, and he'd absolutely _reek_ of brandy. Regardless, Harold would snuggle closer to him, and he'd ignore the self destructive path his lover was taking. 

"You didn't let me down. Nor did you let yourself down, before you say that." Harold mumbled, pulling him close.

Ever since news of Daisy's death had come, Bertie had started back up on alcohol. He was chugging drink after drink after drink, crying and apologising to Harold, saying he wouldn't be worth anything, would never amount to a single thing, and Daisy's death had helped him realise that. Saying the alcohol was the only thing that provided comfort, that it was like his liquid luck and he was worthlessly empty without it. 

"No, I did. Don' lie t' me, love. I appreciate the sentimen', but-"

"Bertie. Please, stop. _Please_."

Harold couldn't watch Bertie torture himself like this, couldn't watch him lose his grip on life this way. 

"Stop what? I'm doin' it again, aren' I?" he asked, and his lower lip quivered. 

After the news, Alfred, Amanda and Henry rushed down to Fallingford, to be there for Bertie. Alfred considered hiding all the alcohol and by God, Harold wished he had. 

Harold sighed and recalibrated. "No, sweetheart, you're not doing anything wrong, It's okay. You're oka-" 

"Don'. I'm not okay, and non' o' this is okay. Daisy's no' okay. She's dead." Bertie's words were coming in bits and pieces, and Harold could feel the stinging of tears behind his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Bertie. But please, darling, _please_. You've got to stop with the alcohol."

"I can' do it, Harold! 'm not strong enough to do it." he slurred. 

"You can. I know you can, and I'll help you. I'll be there with you every step of the way."

Bertie's frame caved in on itself, and he fell into Harold's arms. "I don' deserve you." he slurred, and Harold handed him a glass of water. 

"Don't be silly, Bertie. Why don't you get to sleep, hm? If you still can't by the time I've gotten a snack, then we can stay up and go through my favourite vinyls. How does that sound?"

Bertie nodded, brushing his hair out of his face. "Sounds great, love. Thank y', truly."

"I love you, Bertie. I'm always going to want to help you."

"I love y' too, Harold." he smiled, and flopped back onto the bed. 

Harold smiled softly, and kissed him on the forehead. "You're an absolute idiot, but I love you so, Bertie." he whispered, and he shut the door behind him, his heart hurting a little less.


End file.
